From the Ashes May We Rise To Reverse Your Evils
by ChunSquirrelArtiste
Summary: Set within the timeline of the original A:tla series, and including several interactions with canon characters, without use of OCxCanon romance, this story shows a rebellion in the works and altogether unrecognized in the victory of the Avatar in 100 SC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Set within the timeline of the original A:tla series, and including several interactions with canon characters, without use of OCxCanon romance, this story shows a rebellion in the works, hidden from the viewer, and altogether unrecognized in the victory of the Avatar in ending the War.

**And From the Ashes May We Rise To Reverse Your Evils**

I

She set the note down.

"Omashu," said the lady across the table, patting her mouth deliberately. "But why?"

The girl shook her head and exhaled. "The Lady did not explain. There must be trouble about."

The girl, named Kunie—a woman not yet eighteen and with a burning heart—took up the trinket that had been enclosed. It was a fine jade necklace, long and beaded, which had been faded by time. "It is indeed from our friend in the Capital," she added. "This is a precious possession of hers, but why she has brought this news puzzles me. The Capital is the safest place in the world." Grabbing the note she read aloud, "'You mustn't come… You are not safe here. Go to Omashu. Its seclusion is more reliable and my student will be able to accompany you.'"

Kunie surveyed the paper. The scarlet ink was laid out frantically.

"You must obey her," said the older woman, her unwrinkled face stern. "The boy is here. We should make him wait no longer."

The girl could but nod and be silent. Walking to the window, she unbarred its shutters, inviting a gust of chill air to rush in. Low dark clouds overshadowed the grand mountain city. The streets were empty.

"Come child," the lady beckoned toward the door. The girl followed. On the ground floor of the inn a young man awaited them and stood ceremoniously as they appeared.

"Madame, miss, I am sorry to bring such unexpected news. My master said it was with great cause that she redirects you to Omashu."

The lady looked grave.

"Quiet, quiet. You must not speak freely of such matters." She drew closer to him. "You know the walls are not as solid as they used to be and the faces in our nation are not as true." He nodded in complete confidence and apologized briefly. He then addressed the girl.

"I must request that we depart soon, before the weather worsens. We have not time to lose."

"Very well," she responded. Distraction was present in her face and the boy took notice. She was lost in her thoughts, her mind racing and wholly consumed by the curiosity of the letter from her friend in the Capital and by the eerie sensation encompassing her. What dangers could await in the grand Capital, the City of Walls? Apologetic for her bitter remark, Kunie added, "I do appreciate your generosity, good man. Traveling alone for so long has created a lonesome heart in me. I will gather my things now and return within the half hour." She gave him a brief smile and mounted the stairs.

As she had promised, she returned in a short time, her broad pack heavy upon her. "Dear, young Kunie, I will pray for you and your companion," bade the lady as they departed. Kunie said good-bye to the great inn and city in the mountains for the rain-trodden forests in the south and greeted the journey ahead of her, the vast dark abyss of the unknown and unforgettable before her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Let me know what you think! I am very open to constructive criticism.

II

The mysterious note was still two weeks to come, in a city far from her now. Kunie had not been redirected in her journey, yet, and was continuing on now in her way to Ba Sing Se. It was still seven weeks' walking away. She would stop in the village of Chao tonight, not two miles from her now. Night had come, the sun had passed, and she was tired beyond physical exhaustion. Her mind was passing. But she continued on. The air was dark and mobile, swift and slow, and incessantly pushing her forward on her journey tonight. As she voyaged she let loose her bundle of hair in want of its liberty, its fluidness. The long locks danced around her, a copper crown, alight by a torch whose flames jived in the wind. Her meadow-colored robes, tattered and long, fluttered about her with freedom and hindered not her ability to tread on.

Soon upon the horizon came the dimly-lit boxes of Chao. They were insignificant under the luminance of the stars and flickered among the meandering stripes of wind-blown dust. There was a warmth in her heart for them. They reminded her of her home in the south. She entered the farming village, quiet amidst the gusts, and gazed upon the earthen homes whose roofs were thatched, and looked upon the villagers with a grin stretching upon her parched lips. There were small children playing by the lantern-lit porch of one boxed house, where a course-skinned woman sat in supervision. Down the street lounged an old grain farmer enjoying a languid evening and his sun-blackened son working on a broken tool, gazing at the sky once or twice and commenting on the storm in the air.

These were her people. These were the people who worked with their hands and heart and soul to create what they could and live a life of modesty. They were the true backbone of the immense nation known as the Earth Kingdom, if not in truth, in Kunie's eyes it was so.

Her heart opened to them as she passed by and continued down the dirt road. Near the center of the village she found the Gilded Goblet, the tavern of the town, which stood two stories tall and was constructed of wood and brick. It was old, likely more ancient than the town itself. It was not painted, nor was any structure in the town. As she came upon it she was amused as raucous emerged from its windows. Swift, moving shadows fell upon the earth outside its ajar doors as the sounds of celebration came from within. She entered the building. To the left an assembly of men was performing a light-hearted cabaret, standing upon tables pushed together. At the far wall, behind a tall unpolished desk, was a rosy-cheeked man with a broad chest and heavy chestnut beard grasping a mug.

"Greetings miss," he bellowed. "May I offer you a drink?" Gulping down half his own he added with a foamy grin, "We are in great mirth tonight, if you have not yet noticed. Our fellow up there, on the left, was married not this morning to a very pretty lady."

"Congratulations," the girl called to the married man over the raucous. This man offered thanks to her and she returned her focus to the innkeeper, adding, "And no thank you, sir. It is a room I require if you have one vacant."

The good innkeeper simpered. "Yes, well, here you go then. 'S on the second floor."

Four copper pieces were paid for the night and the girl ascended the dusty stairs, her legs heavy as lead. She met a dimly lit corridor on the second floor. There were six doors on each side and her room was found behind the third door on the left reading "5" in faded gold characters. In this room was a small bed upon a wooden frame, a low table, unpainted dresser, and window with golden shutters.

Reluctant to unpack, she fastened the shutters of the window together and sprawled upon the bed. Dust pounced from its frame. As she lay there and let her eyes grow heavy she pondered going to bed early, about dreaming dreams of bliss and fulfillment. Yet, as she willed to do so, her body did not drift away, but remained alert upon the stiff bed frame.

In meditation she remained, her heart anxious and unsettled. Her mind was bustling, as it forever was.

She had been traveling three weeks now. In these three week's time she had not written home once, for her aunt had advised her not to and she knew this for the best. But she dreaded the isolation from her kin and intolerable depravity of knowing nothing outside her own world. Such caution was necessary now as it had never been before, to send mail only in emergency and migrate from village to village without prolonged residence, but Kunie felt this caution would offer no assistance to her. How much longer could she last when those about her, her colleagues, all once taken by their cause, had now been captured and taken by the evil of the enemy?

A noise erupted from below; a fallen mug from the sound of it, but the noise startled her. In her alarm, she sprang up and rested her back against the papered wall, withdrawing the hope of resting so early. Instead, it became acceptable in her mind that one letter could be sent to her aunt. Yes, she agreed it could be done. She would write a letter to her aunt, with which no address of origin would be provided, that supplied information vital to those in her own village, and there would be no risk at all. Feeling that if given more time to dwell on it she might falter, she retrieved the untouched bundle of parchment, ink stone, and pen from her bag and rejoiced at the freedom and power that resided in them. Her hair gathered in her face as she bent over the paper and she fastened it behind her. She took the slender pen into her hand. A smile, small and fleeting, passed her lips as she began to write.

_Honorable Aunt,_

_I regret to disappoint you in sending this letter, but I assure you that little harm will become of me for it. However, I must repent the harm I deliver to our fellows in Kunashu, for I bring news that will dishearten them. Not ten days into our departure from our beloved village, my peers and I were ambushed, and two of our own children have been taken. Of the courageous boy, our hero, I can offer little wisdom, for when we were attacked that day within the wood outside Gaoling he escaped and I have yet to meet him. I suspect he retreated to Gaoling in the safety of its vastness, but again, I can offer only theories._

_It is with a guilty heart that I travel now alone, for all our party is separated by the boundaries of the unknown and the evil of our enemy. I cannot admit that I have much hope in the journey left, for seven weeks remain before my arrival in the City of Walls, where our old neighbor now stays, but I shall continue on. In no more than two weeks I will be half-way on my way, and perhaps then I will find more security._

_Though I know no reply can be sent from you, I hope that word has come of my brother and my beloved friend, who we have not heard of in three months, for their mission in the north requires such secrecy. Perhaps this evil has not reached them yet, and I shall pray for it, and therefore be permitted to forget the necessity of prayer for my own situation. Never in these years would I have anticipated such despondent events and feelings to be procured, nor have I expected such a betrayal as we have suffered, and for such a noble cause we had! I will indeed pray not only for my brother and companion, but for justice to be brought upon the brute who has wronged us all so, and the well-being of all those who have slipped into darkness._

_With love,_

_Jang Kunie._

Laying the pen down, she read the letter over, and, realizing with an anxious heart her folly, replaced her name with the words: "Your Niece." Sealing the parchment in a thick envelope and stamping it with her family seal she laid the letter down and went to sleep, slipping from consciousness without further hesitation.


	3. Chapter 3

III

The next morning she awoke to the beating of rain. With drowsy steps, she approached the window to open the golden shutters where a heavy downpour awaited her. The sky was dark and the residents of Chao were hidden beneath their frail roofs, staring at the towering clouds in either mirth or contempt and conversing with their relatives over the weather and the fields. Chill air rushed into the room from the window and it sent shivers through her. The wind was strong. There were flashes of light emanating from the sky everywhere. She decided she would wait another day to depart the village and continue in her journey. She wasn't prepared to risk her safety and health to travel. Anyway, her never failing promptness in the previous weeks had kept her ahead of schedule.

She continued peering out the small square window for a few spare moments. There were a few market stands open under the cover of a tarp and children were playing in the muddy street. Their mothers were assembled under one roof, all apparently relieved for the rain and wholly immersed in conversation. Kunie presumed that the woman in the center, quiet and blushing, was the new wife of the man whom she had well-wished in the bar the night before; the girl was fair and young and presented all the innocence of a maid freshly wed. She was quite in contrast to the man Kunie had seen the night before, but Kunie knew this for the best. The sun and moon, heaven and earth, equalizing each other forever create harmony, and this opposition of character would create a good marriage. The woman nevertheless presented a doubtful eye as she listened to her companions patter on, and twisted her hands about constantly. Kunie couldn't resist smiling at this picture of youth and innocence and reflected dolefully that she found no such possibility in her own near future, for the current circumstances so disabled her liberty and passion. For a moment she was lost in her thoughts, her heart throbbing, longing for the careful caresses and sweet embraces of a love she had not yet known, but she gathered herself and resolved to get her letter to the post before the messenger may depart for the day.

"Morning, miss," the rosy-cheeked innkeeper greeted, seemingly unaffected by the night's delight. Kunie gave a generous grin toward him as she departed the building and headed quickly to the post station, where a young man, dark and thin, sat in contemplation of his journey this rain-trodden day. He was fiddling with a small fish bone, the remainder of his only meal until dusk. Kunie handed him the note courteously and he took it with a slow exhale of breath, staring at her in a peculiar silent way. Without a word he looked over the address and stuffed it into his bag. She left the hut and proceeded to the market stands. Yesterday she had run out of food.

"How are yoo," a brittle man with gray whiskers greeted. His smile was broad but his eyes greedy. "May I help yoo too sum peeches? Here we have imported rice from the fields of Kolau Valley, north a' here."

The girl was amused and suppressed her laughter the best she could. Her eyes scanned his gaunt, stooping frame and fervent manner. He had never owned land; he was a tenant farmer. Kunie recognized this through his greedy eyes and earnest voice not unlike a beggar. He also lacked true sentiment toward his products.

"Thank you," she urged, grabbing her woven basket and filling it with apples and pears, bread and vegetables. She also picked up a small packet of rice. As she was preparing to purchase, the graying market man interrupted, "and woul' yoo care too look inside," with a smiling gesture to his earthen home.=

"Oh, no thank you. I believe this is all I need." She smiled, but he was downcast.

Sighing dramatically, he responded, "Aye, then." She nodded and handed him the basket to calculate. "Three copper pieces please," he said impatiently. Delivering the money, she proceeded back to the tavern to find that the rain had lightened into a soft pitter-patter. When her supplies were put away in room 5 and her morning meal eaten, she left the tavern to stroll around the village for a while and observe the wonderments of the area as she often enjoyed doing.

When she returned to the tavern for her evening meal, the rain had gained girth once again. The bar portion of the building was full as she entered the Gilded Goblet, but not as boisterous as the night before. A few men in coarse, threadbare tunics were sitting around a table muttering with curious expressions, and in the corner sat the merry innkeeper eating congee and sipping hot tea, who gave an amicable nod to Kunie as she approached the stairs.

She took the first step of the dusty stairwell. As she did so a screech erupted from outside. A woman had in some unknown terror ran into the safety of her home. Silence settled in the old tavern. Every set of eyes met another's. In curiosity, the stern-looking men rushed to the windows, and Kunie managed to get a glance from the open doorway.

From the north, in a mass of red armor, strode a band of soldiers, all in step and ostensibly unscathed by the downpour from the skies or gusts of the wind. Scrambling from the door to draw nearer the tunic-wearing men, Kunie's heart raced and hairs stood on end. The rhythmic clanking of the ironclad men grew louder and louder with every growing second, and she slipped further and further toward the back of the bar. All the houses were barred shut, with curious and horror-stricken eyes upon the windows.

Kunie fled to her room on the second floor, room number 5, and barred the door, cracking open the shutters to watch the scene below but careful to be unseen. This band was smaller than the one she had encountered before, this with only twelve men, but none looked of less ability than any lieutenant or captain. They marched down the mud-spattered street, neither gazing about nor losing pace, and before them, their leader no doubt, was a tall broad man, middle-aged and dark. His black eyes were sharp and thick brows furrowed. This man halted before the tavern and gazed inside its doors. The merry-no-longer innkeeper had meant to bar them and was by them when the military man stepped forward.

"Certainly you would not be so discourteous, my good man, as to shut us from your tavern," called out the man in a deep-throated, coarse voice. The good innkeeper bowed.

"No, sir, I welcome you."

Kunie kneeled against her door, able to hear the boisterous voice of the intruder against the muffling of the wood.

"Very well," the man in red armor replied to the good innkeeper. A shaft of fire-light fell upon his black mane as he entered the tavern, glinting like a shadowless, depthless mass. His gait was irregular, spurred by some long ago injury, for which his left foot fell like lead.

"The weather is rather annoying today," observed the man. "I and my men are headed for the east, you see, toward the desert, but this damned storm has prevented it. Tomorrow we will not tolerate it." He looked about the room. "Interesting set-up you have here. Well, men, I believe we shall stay here tonight." He faced the innkeeper. "We will take all your open rooms. How many do you have?"

"Very few, sir. We can keep only twelve men, and one is already taken." He looked fearful.

"That should be no problem. I expect he will not argue against sharing a room," responded the man.

"A woman, sir," stammered the innkeeper.

The man laughed.

"Well, if that be the case, I am sure my men will not object." The innkeeper was alarmed. "I am joking, of course. Calm yourself!" The man's voice was not consolatory, but commanding. "I am sure she will be able to find quarters with a good family here."

The innkeeper moved his lips without sound. His hands faltered upon his tall unpainted desk, and he made once more to speak, but the military man cut in.

"Ai ya, the weather is so annoying. Come men, this good man will give you the keys. Go and settle."

One by one, the men climbed the dusty stairs and intruded upon the rooms of the inn. Room 1 was opened and taken. Room 2, 3, 4. The fifth soldier came upon the room whose door read in faded characters the number 5, struggled with the handle, and burst open the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hello my lovely readers, here is chapter 4! Warning, there is one cuss word, so I moved the rating up to T. Please let me know what you think. I assure you that the pace will quicken very soon. Thank you for reading!

* * *

><p>IV<p>

The fifth soldier, who had ascended the stairs of the Gilded Goblet, reached for the door handle of room number 5 where young Kunie was quartered. The door was stubborn, thick as lead, and only when he thrust himself into it did it give way. Within its doors he found an empty room, with an unpainted dresser and table, window with golden shutters—which were thrust open— and a stiff bed, which was pushed up against the door. Other than this, it was a quaint quarter, bereft of the traveling girl. The rest of the rooms in the inn were occupied by the remaining men in red armor, each as empty as number 5, and the woman the good innkeeper had spoken of was nowhere to be found. Had the innkeeper lied? The men cared not. Their leader, the tall dark man, was the only one with a trace of curiosity.

Kunie, who had without hesitation gathered her things and left the building through the small square window, landing with a swear as her ankles throbbed, now walked rather deliberately through the soggy grounds northeast of Chao. The rain came still. She had many miles to walk until she would reach her next destination, a desert town just outside the Si Wong and she would not rest until dusk hit that night. In a few weeks, if she was not found by that cursed band in red armor, she would reach its safety, but fire has a way of seeking out even the most versatile subjects and reducing them to ash.

For three days Kunie passed peacefully through the prairies northeast of Chao and forests of the valley. On the fourth day her journey was hindered. The weather worsened. Torrential rains pounded the wood of the Kolau valley, the winds became savage even when barricaded by the trees, and the lightning was omnipresent. Kunie was wearied in her travels by noon that day and stopped to rest beneath a great maple tree and eat her modest meal. She rested there for a quarter of an hour and all along listened to the growling of the thunder. In her mind she cursed the sky. It was too restless for her now, too angry, too active, and all the time interfering. Yet, in her heart she found the thunder beating in harmony with her restless soul. It shook the earth and set fire to the air, gave current and ambition and drive to the monsoon who nourished the earth. It was the power behind the storm, the force and the beauty and the fire.

Kunie stood, resolving that no more time should be wasted. The thunder ceased for a moment and she started on. But, as she strode away, not reaching ten feet from the spot, a jolt of light came from the sky. Its ferocious, hissing, and spastic figure came down upon the tall maple tree. It split apart, sending splinters of wood into the air. The surge of electricity swelled through the ground, and Kunie, absorbing some of its energy, was thrown from the ground. Her heart was sent into a tantrum and her limbs were numb, but she sat up, gazing out upon the old trunk of the tree, where flames were flaring and spreading. It was painful. Her feet were dumbstruck, but she fled, she fled the engorging flames with all possible speed, though the winds worked against her. They aided the flames in their spreading about the forest; the flames came before her and she was barricaded. Panicking, her face growing hot and feet feeling groundless, she glanced about, searching for an escape. There it was.

A burrow, large and earthen, was in the east. She ran for it.

The leader of the band of men, the men in red armor who had entered Chao, looked down upon the good innkeeper. He looked grave in his coarse red clothing.

"Now why, good man, would you tell me that there was a woman quartered in your inn when in fact there was no woman to be found?"

The innkeeper was startled. He had seen the young girl return to her room as the men in red armor had entered the village. "I don't think I quite understand what you're asking. I know the girl was here not twenty minutes ago."

"There is no girl."

"She was just here, sir." The innkeeper backed away a bit. The man's gaze was frightful.

"What room," demanded the man.

"Sir?" said the innkeeper.

"What damn room was she in?"

"Number 5, sir."

The tall man in red armor looked out through the open doors where the rain had hardened. "A man of mine, who took that room, claims its doors were guarded, that a bed frame had been hastened against it."

The innkeeper gave no response. He looked anywhere but at the severe, dark man who had intruded upon him and his fellows. The man grew impatient.

"Well?" His voice was sharp.

"I don't know what to tell you, sir. The girl retreated to the upstairs before you entered my business, and that is the last I saw of her."

"Do you think it ordinary that a girl would react in such a way," inquired the man. "To bar her door from us, without not a moment to see our intent?"

"I imagine it might be so. The young are frightened easily."

"I disagree," retorted the man. His brow furrowed. "And what was her appearance? What did she look like?"

The innkeeper hesitated. "How is that relevant?"

"Answer the question," the man commanded.

The good innkeeper folded his bulky arms and stared into the ceiling with squinted eyes. "Small, but not too young. At least of sixteen years, maybe seventeen. Unusually pallid skin, unlike the dark sun-bitten skin of other travelers. Hair the color of copper, long, and peculiar eyes. Almond shaped ones." He looked the man in the eyes. "A rather odd woman, sir, but quite harmless I assure you."

"Peculiar eyes, you say?" inquired the military man.

"Yes, sir."

"Ember dirtied with green?"

The innkeeper showed surprise. "Why yes sir. A very odd girl."

The man gave a hoarse cough, near a laugh. He touched his forefinger and thumb to his coarse, full lips. His black brow folded again. "Anything else, good man?"

"Her dialect was a bit developed for this area. She had to have come from the Guódong Province, in the far south. I can recognize their tongue easy." He smiled. "A good friend of mine lived there once."

The military man grinned. "Thank you for your assistance. You have been of great service. I believe we shall continue this conversation later, for my men and I are in need of nourishment. Until another time."

With that, the man in red armor left the building, his limp loud against the earthen floor, and stood beneath the covered porch outside. Thunder was rolling and lightning circulating. Thinking over this girl only for a moment more, he called out to his men, who were seated inside the tavern. "Ai ya, men, let us eat!"


End file.
